


You Belong To Me

by JulietHasAGun



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 16:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5547830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulietHasAGun/pseuds/JulietHasAGun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wasn't always the 'Sole Survivor'; but damn death had always followed her. She lost too many people, and named her son after a dead man; still singing a swan song for her partner in crime. Sometime's music is therapy, though sometime's it's a vice. A story about where the Survivor carved herself out from, and the people whose songs she carries with her in the wasteland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dance With Me

The tinny sound of drums and a guitar riff wafted through the small, underground barrack. 

"Dammit, Shaun, turn that shit off." Came a low grumble, Zoe recognized the voice as Alex, who presumably was trying to get some well earned rest. 

"Awh, come on, Al! It's like a morgue in here!" Came the perpetrators chuckle, Zo turned around slightly on her bunk to see him, having abandoned his jacket, with a cigarette pressed between his fingers, standing luridly by the communal radio. "If this keeps up we'll all probably fall on our own bayonets and tripwires before any of those shits get a chance to kill us."

"He has a point.." Came the sleepy voice of Sera, the company nurse; she had propped herself up on her elbows and was observing Shaun, the same as her. The man grinned, turning his gaze over to her, recognizing that she was awake. 

"What say you, partner? Would you like to get jiggy with it? Or would you like to continue to coat your mattress in your bored, laxidasicle tears?" He wagged his eyebrows at her, offering a hand up to help her down from her bunk. 

"I feel like I don't actually have a choice." She chuckled, taking his hand. 

"Damn right you don't." He pressed the cigarette between his lips, helping her down with both hands, pulling her into a dance. 

" _We-ll I'm the typa guy who'll never settle down, where pretty girls are, you know that I'm around!_ " He sang along with the metallic voice on the radio, both of them swinging across the room. Zoe couldn't help it, she started laughing, singing along with him as he swept her through the room. Sera had climbed down from her bunk, her dark skin illuminated by the dim lighting of the bunker. She was singing along as well, her small frame bobbing to the music on her way over to Alex. She jabbed his shoulder playfully.

"Come on, Mr. Grumpy. Get up and dance." She reached down and began to pull him up off his back. The man grumbled. 

" _Naaaate,_ " The large man groaned. "Back me up here, buddy." The lump in the bunk above him adjusted itself. 

"Hey, what I say won't change anything. 'Sides you should feel lucky such a lovely young thing is even asking your grumpy ass to dance." The man groggily chuckled, causing Sera to smile down at Alex triumphantly. 

"So much for loyalty." The larger man sighed sarcastically. "Alright, you win, Bubbles." He pulled himself up from the bunk as she pulled him along to the rock n' roll rhythm. 

" _I roam around around around around around around around around- Oh well I roam from town to town, I go through life without a care-_ " Zoe and Shaun continued to belt out the lyrics, not caring for the pitch or intonation. The cigarette made it hard for the latter to sing without sounding like a drunken sock puppet, so the woman dutifully plucked it from his lips and deposited it smoothly in the nearby ashtray as they swung by it. Shaun stopped his singing for a moment. 

" _Rude._ " He muttered, a slight grin on his face. Without any warning, he flung her into a deep and masterfully executed dip; her light brown hair barely brushing the musty ground. She cried out slightly, clinging onto his shoulder for dear life. "Easy, I'm not gonna drop you-" He pulled her back up to his chest in one fluid motion. "Just wanted to give you a lil' scare, is all." He finished playfully, his almond shaped, cat like eyes looking more wicked than they usually did. 

"Well mission friggin' accomplished assbiscut." She tried to keep a straight face, smacking her balled up fist into his chest; but she couldn't fight back a snicker. They were all exhausted, slightly intoxicated and not looking forward to going back into the field tomorrow. 

"Can you stop flirting, Shaun? It's making us well-behaved folks uncomfortable." Nate was currently leaning on one of the support beams to the bunker, his dark hair disheveled, and his copper skin mysteriously draped in shadows created by the rooms low hanging light. 

"Not my fault I'm more charming when I'm just talking than you when you're trying to schmooz it up with the ladies. Plus, I think it's more ' _Oh Shaun stop hitting on pretty girls, my lonely ass can't handle it. Oh Shaun teach me your ways, I haven't seen a titty outside of a Playboy_.'" He mimicked what Nate might have sounded like before puberty, complete with a hand to the forehead as he feigned a swoon; one arm still wrapped around Zo's waist. 

"Ouch," Nate smirked, slapping one hand to his chest. "You wound me, Shaun. However, I'm a very successful schmoozer, I'll have you know. And your aggressive PDA is going to get you arrested for public indecency one day." 

"Pffft- as if. Me and Zo's entire existence in unfit for public consumption. Which is why we're the masters of subterfuge in this company. Direct contact with the eyes could lead to blindness, you know." Shaun leaned back against one of the bunks littering the room, hand moving up to rest on Zo's shoulder. "Plus, there is no such thing as 'excessive PDA' when you're crammed into confined spaces with the person for days on end. That is a bond few people share. For richer, for poorer, for smellier, for sicker, for nastier.." She elbowed him playfully. "What? It's true!" 

"Ladies don't usually like it when you talk about their stink, man." Alex said, Sara in a graceful twirl under his arm. 

"Not even that, I just don't want him to force me to relive every gross detail when we're supposed to be having a break from all that." Zo insisted.

"Come on, it's not that bad. My company is positively sparkling." Shaun insisted, adding dramatic intonation for full effect. 

"Yeah, totally..."


	2. Treetops

Shaun and Zo were perched in a tree, isolated; on lookout duty for anyone trying to make it across the forested 'no man's land' that seperated the enemy camp and theirs. It was the dead of night, and the only noise to be heard were the rustles and cries of the various wildlife in the foliage below them. Shaun had just done a sweep, and no one was around for miles; so both of them were cramped in the tight; and remarkably high up, nook of a tree. Every hushed breath could be heard by the other as their keen eyes kept a lookout from their sniper's nest.

"You know, you're pretty when you're waiting for a chance to shoot someone." Came his hushed whisper. Her eyes raised to find his, amber, almost glowing in the utter blackness of the night.

"Playing kiss ass will get you nowhere." She responded, hoping her light blush at the compliment wasn't visible as she returned her eyes to the sights of her rifle. 

"Oh? Will it?" He prodded her, knowing compliments were in short supply, and having realized long ago she was an absolute sucker for them. 

She relented. "No. Continue." She said flatly, not wanting to give him the full satisfaction he wanted. 

He smirked, reclining into the branch across from her, sniper rifle tucked dutifully under his arm. "I was just observing. Your cheeks do this odd flex, and your nose wrinkles when you're really into something. It's like a grimace, but it's....not." She was still scanning the forest floor through the night vision scope of her rifle. "It's like you're a bird of prey, but you're scared. You don't want to have to do it, but you will- without hesitation." 

"Nosy little fucker, aren't you." She finally pulled back from her scope, looking at him after she realized nothing was anywhere near them.

He shrugged as much as he could without disturbing their setup. "I'm good at what I do. Just as you are." He was right. A remarkably high level of perception was required for their job; something both of them had realized a long time ago. 

She rested the butt of her rifle between her legs, in the nook of the branch; each foot on either side of Shaun's left leg, she leaned the barrel on her shoulder, as Shaun did. "Did I ever tell you how I came into this line of work?" 

"No. Though I've been waiting for you to talk about it. Everyone in the company is curious, though I hoped and assumed I'd be the first to find out, if ever the time came." 

She couldn't help but smile at that. Shaun and her were naturally closer than anyone else in the regiment; and more secretive. They were masters of stealth, subterfuge, secrecy- they were the cloak and dagger of the front lines; she was fairly sure he had acted as some sort of spy at one point, as she had. Though now their talents were put to better use picking off stealth fighters before they had a chance to sneak into their barracks and slit the throats of their frontline fighters. But, that aside, they trusted each other. They knew things about each other that they hadn't shared with anyone else in the company; it seemed only fitting that he be the first person to find out how she initially joined. "Started out as a nurse, you know. Funny as that sounds." She muttered wistfully, remembering her first day on the job. 

Shaun raised his eyebrows. "You? A nurse?"

"I know, frickin nuts, right?"

"I'm just trying to imagine you in the same nurse getup Sera wears. With the little white hat, prim and proper skirt. I need to find a picture of that. Maybe use it for blackmail."

"Oh, ha ha; you should be on television, you know that?" 

"Oh, but mother always told me I had a face made for radio." He sighed, sarcasm oozing from his breath. "But go on with your story." 

"Right; anyway. I wanted to help people, but even then I didn't believe in the whole 'war is noble, fight for your country! America rules!' diatribe they try and hammer into you from day one. I saw it for what it was- old rich men making a war for the young and the poor to die in. I joined for them. Not to mention I really had no one who would be crushed by my death, should it come to that. So I figured, why the hell not? I might die so someone with a family who loves them can live, right?" Shaun was silent, listening to her intently. She had already told him the story about her family. Her non existent father, nutso mother, her being handed off at the behest of distant relatives who temporarily took her on as a charity case one by one. "But my sob story isn't the point, here. Anyway, I joined up, and I'm used to blood, I'm used to pain. But what I saw, what dripped through my fingers, was something completely different. It....it changed me, in a way. Seeing people die on your table, under your finger tips, fucks with you. Hearing someone beg for you to help them, telling you about a daughter they haven't had a chance to see yet, as you're holding their organs in doing your best to keep their insides from smearing all over the floor- only to have them die in a whimper and smell their shit roll out all over the operating table in some disgusting testament to your own incompetence. Not even being able to wipe all the shit and piss off before another one gets rushed onto it with the same damn story. Sometimes it’s a leg, an arm, hell sometimes it was even half their fucking head- but it was always the same damn tale; they all had someone they needed one more chance to see. Someone they didn't want to say goodbye to just yet- but they had to, because I couldn't do shit." Just remembering it made her reel, gag, Shaun silently reached out a hand in the dark, thumb caressing her collarbone. She let out a ragged sigh before continuing.

"One day, I couldn't take it. I snapped. I figured there had to be a better way to help these poor fuck's than letting them bleed out all over me and having to go home and bleach out my pretty white uniform for the next day. So it occurred to me. Why focus on treating the symptom when you could just eliminate the cause? But unfortunately for me, it's a bit harder to get a frontline roll as woman than as a man. Luckily, my unique set of talents made me perfect for spy work. Which, in my opinion, is way better than being a nurse. Plus, made me feel like some sorta sexy double agent type; kinda like james bond. With tits. Still waiting for the hot girls to come in, though." 

"Good luck with that." 

"Thanks. Anyway, after more than a few 'classified' shootouts with people who I'm contractually obligated not to name- they found out about a couple more of my 'unique' talents- sharpshooting and stealth. Turns out, I'm one of the best spooks they know, and I'm highly qualified for a super 'special' and 'important' job. Which turns out to be slogging it out here with your snarky ass." She adjusted herself awkwardly. She was truly grateful to be out here with Shaun; as well as Alex, Sera and Nate. To be honest, she never really had a friend before the sniper, but she was sure he already knew that. "I might tell you the longer version one day, when I'm drunker, but for now you get the gist."

Shaun was quiet for a moment, piping up after a while, softly. "Thank you."

"For..?" She said, wanting to put this whole emotional mumbo jumbo behind her. She was accustomed to being the one people told their problems to. She was the one to hold them as they cried, to make it all better. 

"For trusting me." For letting me in, she could almost hear him say. There were plenty of unspoken things between her and Shaun. She was starting to believe if you're stuck nose to nose with someone for long enough you start to develop telepathic communication with them. 

She gave a quiet, airy laugh. "Y'know...One of the dumbest parts is that I sang to them sometimes."

"Them?" 

"The soldiers, in my clinic. They always told me stories about their life, if they lived past their emergency rush in. I sat with them on my breaks, off hours, free time, y'know? Not much else to do, and I figured talking to someone would make them feel at least a bit better. So they told me all these bits and pieces from their lives. Songs their mother's used to sing, the song that played at their wedding, the songs that were playing when they first had sex with their honey....That stuff. I listened to the radio a lot when I was younger, so I usually knew the songs, if not I made it a point to learn em. Usually after the first few bars they lit up; either singing, or humming along with me, or quietly listening with one of those blissful smiles on their faces. Kept me sane, doing that." She exhaled, looking up at him. "What would your song be?" She asked before she realized what was leaving her mouth. She pressed her eyes shut. "Shit, no, never mind, that's a bad thing to ask."

"Why?" He surprisingly wasn't bothered by her macabre line of questioning. "It's a good question. One that I....don't have the answer to." 

"Why not?" 

"I don't really have 'a song'. No mother to sing to me. No wedding. No making love to a honey at a drive in. I know a lot of songs, I've been to a lot of clubs, but nothing that's really 'my song'." He tilted his head up slightly, as if to admire the stars through the canopy, but maybe it was to avoid awkward eye contact for his next question. "What would be yours?" 

She was taken aback for a moment, she never really thought about it. "Mine?" 

"Yeah." 

"Why? You plan on singing at my funeral?" She tried to turn it into a joke, not knowing what to answer with. 

He, once again, did one of those slight shrugs as to not create excess movement. "Well, it's just so awfully quiet out here; thought you might do me the honor of singing something for me." For once, there was no sarcasm in his voice. It was a clear and honest request. She pursed her lips. 

"Well...I might have one. But singing on a stealth mission might not be the best idea."

"I'll lean close, you can be quiet." 

"Closer than we already are? Scandalous."

He let out a silent chuckle. "We've been much closer than this, need I remind you?"

"Yes, ankle deep in blood, gasoline and animal shit; never forgetting that one."

"Yeah, so are you going to serenade me or not?" 

She couldn't exactly say not, she didn't even want to. She was just oddly nervous. For all his snarky remarks and extravagant tendencies, she knew he would never mock her; and he seemed genuine... 

"Okay, fine." She sighed, adjusting herself. "Come in close." She should have asked him what he meant by close, because before she could get a grip on what he was doing, his head was laying in the crook of her neck. She could feel the heat and sweat from his forehead, and his warm breath trickling down her shirt. "Well....this.... certainly is close." She felt the smile on his lips. 

"If my breath stinks, just know that once you serenade me I'll go back to my squatting position on the other side of the nest." She didn't know why she smiled at that; even though it lasted only for a moment. She cleared her throat softly, taking a deep breath. 

" _See the pyramid's along the Nile, see the sunrise from a tropic isle, just remember darling all the while; you belong to me...._ " Her voice was quiet, like a lullaby; and it must have been soothing, because Shaun was silent, quieting his own breath. " _See the marketplace in old Algiers, send me photographs and souvenirs; just remember when a dream appears, you belong to me.._ " Shaun had closed his eyes, she felt his eyelashes flutter shut against her neck. " _I'll be so alone without you... Maybe you'll be lonesome too, and blue.._ " She didn't know why, but she raised her hand and twirled a stray strand of his hair through her fingers, tilting her head to the side to rest her cheek gently against the top of his head. " _Fly the ocean in a silver plane, see the jungle when it's when with rain; just remember till you're home again, you belong to me..._ " She could fall asleep like this, oddly enough. The warmth of his breath against her neck, which despite his words, didn't stink at all compared to the rest of them, and the head radiating from the rest of his body; like her own personal, fleshy furnace. " _And I'll be so alone without you....Maybe you'll be lonesome too, and blue.._ " Maybe he had fallen asleep, it was late, and they'd been awake all day. Maybe all it took as the comfort of a warm shoulder to finally let him knock off into dreamland. " _Fly the ocean in a silver plane, see the jungle when it's wet with rain; just remember till you're home again, you belong to me..._ " She tapered off, the song was over; she did her best not to move, waiting to see if he really was unconscious. 

"What's it called..?" So he wasn't asleep.

"You Belong To Me." She answered, she had sung it for a man who never got to see his three year old daughter. It was the song that played on his first dance with his wife. It stuck with her, after all this time. 

"That's it." He mumbled, sounding surprisingly at ease for someone in a snipers perch.

"Hm?" She was lost for a moment. 

"That's my song." He clarified. "You wanted to know what my song would be. That's it."

"Oh.." She said softly, surprised as to why he had picked that one. But somewhere inside her she knew. 

"As for my promise to move back to my side of the nest. I lied. You are way too comfortable." 

She didn't have a problem with that in the slightest.


	3. Her Shaun

"Hey," Nate's hand on her shoulder was meant to comfort her, she knew that. But for some reason all she wanted to do was pry it off her. She didn't, of course, he was suffering, too. That was his best friend in that pine box; the one patiently waiting to be put in the ground. He was going nowhere fast. No place to be, nobody to see. Who was that person to her though? Her friend? Her foxhole companion? Her partner in crime? Her star crossed lover? Her lost lenore? It was all jumbled together in her head what he was, what he could have been, what they both wanted him to be.

But for now, he was just Shaun. That was more than enough. Her Shaun. Her dead Shaun. 

She could have fixed this. If she had just hugged him a little tighter, screamed a little louder, kissed him then, kissed him that other time, too; not relied so much on that bogus 'telepathy' she kept trying to convince herself existed. She should have told him, how she loved him, his stupid remarks, his snarky rebuttals, the pessimistic and childish way he handled everything, his hatred for the world, but his zest for life; his dancing, the heat of his breath on her neck, the feel of his eyelashes, the softness of his hair, the realness of him pressed against her in a confined hole in the ground. She should have told him how much she loved him, because everyone knew how much he loved her, but she had kept it in such a tight fist that she never got to do anything with it. She could have saved him. And that man who never got to see his three year old daughter, and the young soldier with a pregnant girlfriend who died of shock when they had to amputate his leg, and the man who could only repeat a womans name when half his head was blown off ' _Margaret, Margaret, Margaret_ ' she whispered the name in her sleep weeks after he had bled out on her table. She could have saved them all, but she didn't. 

Now Nate was just standing there, staring at her, with his pale, concerned eyes. ' _Don't you pity me,_ ' She thought. ' _Don't you dare fucking pity me._ ' The ring on her finger was burning a hole through her flesh. And she wanted to pluck his right off his hand. Those rocks were one of the many things that buried Shaun. Shaun. Her Shaun. Her beautiful, stupid, dead Shaun. What made it worse was that even with all her anger, her hatred towards her inability to prevent this from happening, was that she still loved Nate. She loved his stupid black hair, and his copper skin that appeared almost golden in the morning sun, his giggle, the concerned look he always gave her when he came home to find she had been waiting in the closet to scare him when he got home, the smile he gave her after, when they ordered pizza and argued over stupid things. ' _What did come first? The chicken or the egg?_ ' She hated it all. Damn it to hell, she didn't deserve any of it. Shaun did. Shaun deserved a loving wife, and a picket fence, and a dog and two loving kids. Because dammit, he was her picket fence. There was no future she envisioned for herself without him in it, and unfortunately for her, everyone in the room knew that, and were shooting her looks filled with so much pity she wanted to scream. 

"Zo," Came Alex's deep voice. He had the voice of a general, deep and musky and formal. It was like a house you built for yourself to keep the world out, to keep the tide at bay. 

She looked back at him. He was dressed in his army uniform, as were Nate and Sera. But not her, except for her jacket, decorated with all the medals her and Shaun had earned together, side by side. "Yes?" It came out weaker than she expected, like some sort of dithering woman in a floral dress who had just watched a sad soap opera. She wanted to kick herself with the broken look he was trying not to give her. 

"The arrangement you made; I think now's as good a time as any." Ah, yes. The farewell song. She'd been waiting for it, and in some way dreading it all evening. The final song she'd get to sing to him. But still, she nodded, making her way slowly up to his coffin. Her Shaun's coffin. She was in a dress, though an evening gown might be a better term for it. She remembered her and Shaun joking about this very moment that was destroying her inside. 

"Say one of us dies, we'll be singing at the others funeral, right?" He had slurred, having slammed back one too many.

" _What?_ " She laughed, not believing he would bring something so grim up on an evening dedicated to celebratory drinks. 

"Did I stutter?" He leaned over towards her. "I mean, I'm a shit singer but _you_...you better sing at my funeral. I wanna be put in the ground on the soothing sounds of a sirens voice," He looked her up and down. "And while I'm makin' requests, you better be wearing that little red number you got on because _daaaaaamn._ " He took another swig of beer. 

"I doubt this is appropriate for a funeral." It was fancy, she'd give him that, but it was tailored to her figure, flourishing out at the bottom, with a rather immodest neckline.

"Hey, it's my funeral, it's appropriate if I say it is. I want the last thing my soul sees in this shitty, earthly plane to be you- all dressed to the nines, singing me one last swan song." The smile he gave her made her realize this wasn't just drunken bullshitting. "So you better promise me you'll do it. Dress and all." 

"Fine. Dress and all." 

She wishes she hadn't made that promise. She could feel the shaming gazes of all those at his funeral; with the exception of Nate, Alex and Sera, of course. But when she got up behind that mic, looking down at Shaun's lifeless body, dressed up to be put in the ground, she didn't give a damn. She knew him better than anyone in that fucking room. She knew he'd loved that damn dress, that he wanted her to wear it here. That he loved every ridiculous thing they did together. That if he were to pull himself out of that coffin right now he'd flip his middle finger up at every last one of them, arm draped around her shoulders. And she would turn to him and plant one on him, god, because hell if that isn't what she should have done a long time ago; and he'd put his hands on her hips and kiss her right the fuck back. She'd pull that ring off her damn finger and toss it behind her, and take Shaun's hand and run into the sunset. But none of that was going to happen. Because dead is dead, and the end is the end. But if this was the end, she'd let Shaun get his wish. So after a shaky breath, she sang. She sang with so much emotion she thought her heart was going to push out from her ribcage and drop to the floor; and in that moment, she understood why he chose it. Aside from her singing it to him that one night in the treetops; he felt it. For when they were out there, together, in their own little world, they belonged to each other. There was no one else, nothing else; and nothing could touch them. 

" _You belong to me._ " 

He did. She did. He was hers, her Shaun. And she was his, his Zoe. The two little spies and sharpshooters who dangled from high places and had dozens of lives on their shoulders at a time. Who never made a misstep until it was one that destroyed his life; and hers. 

She'd never forget him, never let the world forget- because to her, he was the best damn thing it ever got. 

" _Fly the ocean in a silver plane, see the jungle when it's wet with rain, just remember till you're home again; you belong to me..._ "


	4. What Ails You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter than normal; I had to cut it apart from the next two just to make the flow a bit smoother.

Zoe always felt she'd missed the genetic lottery for women, because _Christ_ she never did like kids. Ever. 

They were tiny, and loud; they shoved stupid things into their mouths and drooled over everything. They were small, dumb, annoying and screamed when faced with the slightest inconvenience. They were terrible, in every conceivable way. 

So one could imagine the surprise, horror, and disgust when she had been faced with two terrible words.

"You're pregnant." 

No, that was impossible. Less than impossible. It was inconceivable. 

"No, no, no-" She rattled off with her usual swing in her voice. "That's wrong. Can't be. Nuh-uh."

"Well, we ran all the tests-" 

"My uterus remains empty. Nothing small, wrinkly, or loud is going to be bursting from my vag anytime soon- if not ever." She continued flatly, her body starting to shake despite her lighthearted tone. 

"Mrs. Price, I'm informing you of a fact. You're preg-" She launched herself off the examining table, grabbing the doctor by his collar and slamming him against the wall, lifting him a few inches off the ground. 

"The _HELL_ do you mean I'm _PREGNANT_?" She snarled, her own face inches from his, teeth bared in a growl.

"Honey-" Nate started, walking up behind her to put a hand on her shoulder. She felt Sera's tiny hands wrap around her forearm in an attempt to pull her off. 

"Zo, I think you need to calm down a little bit. Just put the doctor down- put- _put him down_." She was one of the senior surgeons at the hospital; and when Zoe had complained about headaches, pain, dizziness and puking her damned guts up every morning, Sera had scheduled her to see this assbiter. Still, she lowered him back to the ground, releasing his collar. Upon taking a step back she was hit with yet another wave of dizziness, as she had been for the last few weeks, staggering back a few steps, directly into Nate's arms, before she collapsed.

"Damnit.." She groaned as he helped her back up onto the examination table. 

"As I was saying," The doctor straightened out his coat. "You're pregnant. About a month or two along, I'd say. Though if your temper is always this bad, might I suggest you consider adoption-" He was cut off by Sera's tiny fist colliding with the side of his face. He staggered back, hand pressed to his cheek, not believing what had just happened. "Doctor Harding?"

"You might be one of the best in your field, _Doctor_ ," She spat, glaring at him. "But your bedside manner is atrocious." She rubbed her knuckles, hands with soft skin, not used to punching anything. "Leave. Now." She said flatly; the man readily complied, hurrying out of the room, muttering the word 'Bitch' under his breath. As soon as the door clicked shut, all attention went back to the brunette on the table. They were expecting her to say something, anything; but all she could form to leave her mouth was.... 

"Well, shit."


	5. Foot In The Door

"Honey?" Nate's voice called tentatively from the bedroom, his elbows propped up on the soft surface of their mattress. It was the morning, and he was always the one who woke up first. She stayed comfortably in bed until at least ten. But this morning it was different, he had woken up to the lurching of their bed, and by the time he had opened his eyes the spot beside him had been empty. He waited, but the call was met with no answer. He rolled to the side, looking out their open bedroom door. " _Hooonnneeeeyyyy_?" He cooed, maybe she hadn't heard him? 

Still no response. 

He pushed himself up from the bed, coming into the hallway, eyes adjusting to the light. The bathroom door was closed; and locked, as he found out upon trying to jostle the door.

"You alright in there?" He asked, tapping his knuckle gently against the door.

"I- I'm fine." Came her shaky response. Which meant she was definitely not fine. "I....think." 

Yeah. Definitely not fine. 

He jostled the door again. "Zo, let me in." 

"No-no! It's fine, I can-" She cut herself off, whispering a curse that was only heard due to his head being pressed against the door. He opened his mouth to demand entry to the bathroom, but he couldn't even get a whisper out before she let out a cry of pain from beyond the door. 

"GodDAMMIT-" He heard her cry, groaning and grunting in pain. 

Now he was tempted to just break the damn door down. His fist pounded on the door. 

"Let me in, Zo- this isn't funny!" He raised his voice, partially trying to disguise the shakiness of it. 

"I _knoooow_ -" Came a strained groan. He heard movement, and a click of metal. The door swung open to reveal his wife, in her pajamas, and wet from the thighs down. Her face was pale as a corpse, her hair stringy- she looked like she was going to keel over at any moment. 

"It's time- _it's fucking- time_." She sputtered out, wailing like a ghost. 

"Time? Time?" He was so taken aback by her appearance that he hadn't the slightest clue what she could have meant. "Time for what?"

"What do you think it's time for you tit!" She hissed. "I'm about to _lay a fucking egg_!" 

It hit him like a truck and his face blanched, eyes widening. "Oh- o-oh! Now? _Now_?" His hands ran back through his hair, comical shock on his face.

" _Are you a fucking owl_? YES now! Now Now!" Her voice was getting louder as she leaned against the doorframe. "Hospital! _Now now_!"

"OOOooooh fuck! On it! I am _so_ on it!" He stuttered, tripping over himself as he grabbed his keys from the top of the dresser. Moving to hoist her up and sprint out the door.

"Honey-" She said flatly before he could pick her up. 

"Yeah?" He asked, most likely on the verge of a heart attack.

"Pants?" 

He looked down at himself, and sure enough, he was clad in only a tshirt and his underwear. "That-" He muttered. " Thanks." So, as his wife waddled angrily to the car, he hopped from one foot to the other in an attempt to get his pants on. He had finally managed to button up his trousers and get to the car when he heard a chipper voice that was too happy to fit in with the chaotic mood of the morning. 

"Good morning Mr. Price!" It was, of course, his neighbor, Mr. Leyland; accompanied by his equally as chipper wife. Usually both families were content to shoot the breeze with each other whenever they bumped into each other. But today they were a bit pressed for time. 

"Morning, Craig!" Came Nate's quick reply. "Listen we're in a bit of a hurry so-" 

"Baby, Nate! Comin' out at the speed of light, here!" Zo shouted, cutting him off- prompting not only the Leyland's, but the couple next to them, the Cousland's; Mary and Donna, to pop up from behind the fence eyes wide. 

"Oh my god! Oh, Mrs. Price!" Came Mrs. Leyland's extatic squeak. 

"Zo, oh my god!" Came Mary's enthusiastic cry and she ran up to the car, through the gate to the neighboring yard, to begin helping her inside, Donna right behind her, ready to catch the pregnant woman if she fell. "Do you need any of us to come with you?" 

"N'thanks. Would rather my neighbors not hear my screams of agony as a baby gets pulled out of my ass." Normally, her vulgar language would earn her a chastising look from Mrs. Leyland, but the latter let it slide, given the circumstances. 

"Okay, okay- but we're coming to see you after; I can't wait to meet mini-Price!" Mary clasped her hands excitedly to her mouth once Zo was in the car. 

"Yeah, we'll be sure to bring icecream and junk food as an expression of fealty." Donna laughed, but it was obvious she was just as tickled, in her own, Donna way. Nate could see how hard Zoe was trying to restrain herself from screaming at someone; it would have been funny if she wasn't in what seemed to be agony. 

Nate ducked into the car, starting up the engine, waving almost dismissively to the two couples who were FAR too overwhelmed by someone else's child birthing moment in the spotlight; as he pulled quickly out of the driveway, speeding off down the street like a bat out of hell.


End file.
